


Breaking

by Skeren



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captivity, Multi, Psychological Torture, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5902399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeren/pseuds/Skeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't bring himself to stop loving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> Written February 2006. For Valentine's that year no less.

He curled lower against his knees, face pressed tight against them as he let out a ragged breath, apologies long since given up on because of the whip scores that lined his spine. He had his arms folded, one in front of the other so they wouldn’t be protecting his neck. He knew moving would only rattle the metal bonds on his ankles, further upsetting the person standing over him, so he held carefully still, eyes on the ground as he tried to keep his breathing from turning frantic. It never helped.

After the rather violent storm of the tantrum a few hours before, the light fingers brushing over his back caused him to flinch. The reaction inspired a growl, a wholly inhuman sound that had him wishing there were a way to prostrate himself closer to the ground. He held carefully still at the second touch, suppressing a whimper. He knew it wouldn’t be approved of under the kindness being offered, and the pain would likely resume. That was something he very much didn’t want. 

“Do you know what day it is?” The words were almost sweet, nearing sultry with the promise of reward should he answer correctly. He never really wanted rewards from that one though, but there was no way of knowing what would be delivered when that tone was used.

It had been weeks since he’d been placed here, possibly nearing months, and he could barely hear his own broken apology as he realized he was incapable of giving even what part of the week it was, let alone the date. “I’m sorry, I’ve lost track.”

“That’s no good.” The words were spoken in a different voice, chill and of a higher tone than the voice of the first figure, and those hands were almost bitterly cold as they rested across his whip scores, newer marks overlapping the older ones. The disobedience that caused them was typically small, always inflicted by the owner of the first voice, but the displeasure of one typically meant the displeasure of both. The cold hands weren’t always like that, usually just when the owner of them was angry with him. He was worried that he was angering them again so soon. He wouldn’t stay conscious right now if any other hurts were inflicted.

The way he took the damage wouldn’t be nearly so hard if it had been enemies, some faceless troupe that never had any loved ones among their number. As it was though, it meant he was supposed to take what he was given, to accept that it was for his own good that these things were in mind. He’d always been too loyal for his own good, his girlfriend had told him as much... warned him of it really. “I’m sorry.”

The lower voice returned, closer, soothing as he felt warm fingers stroke through his short hair. “Shhh, she’s just upset you’re not prepared for her.” A lilting taunt threaded the next few words, and the hand slid down, tugging him up by the shoulders. “It is, after all, a holiday.”

He made a little pained sound, ignored the flicker of black strands as the figure that owned them moved to kneel across his feet behind him, small hands deceptively strong on his shoulders, holding his trembling form upright. The last holiday they’d done this game with was the winter solstice, the _gift_ of being told that the colonel was alive and well had kept that date separate from the others, so that meant that the lovers holiday had to be next… Unless there’d been a much shorter gap of time between the winter holiday and new years this year. With the way these two played, it was entirely possible. “Valentines?”

The black gloved woman knelt down, stroking her fingers over his face. He knew better than to try and touch her back, even with his hands unbound, even if it hadn’t been so hard to leave them just where they were, shaking slightly under the strain on him along with the rest of his body. The rules were different here than they’d been when she’d just been a normal, if beautiful, woman that was been wonderful enough to be with him. It still eased something to see her slow smile of approval though, more now than before as relief flooded him. “Was that all the prompt you needed?” 

Her voice was softer, but he knew her anger hadn’t faded, she was still too cold for her anger to have fled. He almost, almost leaned against the slender, almost masculine, warm form at his back. That was just as likely to invite punishment though. It had been bad enough that his lack of sleep had caused him to drowse while she’d been speaking to him that morning, anything like that now would be worse. “Yes ma’am, ‘m sorry ma’am.”

She sighed, and he felt the grip on his shoulders tighten, a smug countenance rub against the nape of his neck, though the action hurt even with its simplicity. He liked the purr of words that accompanied the action no better. “Are you sure you won’t share him for the holiday Lust?”

“Of course not Envy. Today is a day for _lovers_ , and we both know you’ve never loved anyone, well, not that could be counted for the day at least.” She trailed her fingers down, tipping the blond man’s head up with a small smile. “Don’t you worry Jean, today will be a good day for you. In fact,” her other hand was tugging her skirt up shamelessly, “I already have the first task for you.” She stroked his face a last time before letting go of it, body easing closer so he could reach her. “Be a good boy and please your mistress.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, silently damned the fact that all of _this_ hadn’t shaken his feelings for her, and he leaned forward to obey, counting on the hands of a former stranger to keep him upright as he sent her a last submissive murmur. “Yes ma’am.”


End file.
